King of the Caribbean
by Golden Gypsy
Summary: When Commodore Pulitzer raises the taxes on all shipping in order to fund his war on piracy, Captain Jack Kelly is having none of it. With help from his crew and an infamous pirate, Jack is determined to bring down the crooked commodore once and for all.
1. The Wickedest Town On Earth

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Newsies!

Author's Note: Hey guys, so I haven't written anything in a few years, so please let me know what you think and don't be at all shy to tell me if anything's written incorrectly or is just plain stupid sounding!

Chapter One: The Wickedest Town On Earth

Captain Jack Kelly stepped off his ship and onto the dock, grinning broadly as he breathed in the Jamaican sea air.

"God, it's good to be back, Race," he commented to the man standing beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," Racetrack nodded in agreement, "We got lucky too, it should have taken us at least four days to get here from Puerto Bello, and it barely took three."

"Thank those winds," Jack smiled, clapping his hands together, "All right men!" He shouted back to his crew aboard the ship, "Let's get 'er fully docked and unloaded, then I think it's time we head out for a drink!"

A chorus of excited whoops and yells met his orders as a dozen or so young men appeared on the main deck of the ship, hauling up large crates from the hold before rigging them onto ropes and lowering them onto the dock.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!" A small man carrying a quill and paper hurried down the dock towards Jack, "I'll need you to pay and register to dock your boat here."

Jack signed the paper and tossed the man two shillings, chuckling at the man's scurrying gait as he ran off to other recently docked ships.

"Say Jack!" An eye patch wearing blond boy called down to his captain from his position on the quarter deck, "Where's all this going, anyway?"

"Dunno why you care, Blink, but it's all for Commodore Edwards!" Jack hollered back, watching with approval at the swiftness with which his men worked.

"Pssh," Race snorted, folding his arms, "I thought we were done with this navy business."

"Oh, how can they help themselves if we've got one of the fastest ships in the Caribbean?" Jack gazed back at his ship fondly.

"Don't let Conlon here you saying that," Racetrack joked.

"Now that's not fair," Jack countered, "Different trade, different ship. For what we do ours is just about as good as it gets."

Racetrack rolled his eyes, "Whatever, no matter how much I like that ship, after a month on that thing I'm just glad to be back on land."

"You're just upset 'cause we ran out of liquor," one of the crew commented as he brushed past his friend, carrying a small carton hefted onto his shoulder.

"Oh shut up, Mush!" Racetrack yelled after him, before turning somberly to Jack, "But yeah…that too."

The two laughed to themselves as they turned to help the crew unload the remaining crates, before dragging them out to where a large horse-drawn cart waited just beyond the docks.

"Captain Pulitzer," Jack tipped his hat in a distantly polite greeting to the man in navy uniform holding the reins.

"That's _Commander_ Pulitzer now, Captain Kelly," Pulitzer replied curtly, not bothering to tip his hat in return.

"Well, commander already! If you'll excuse me, I was gone for the last month and didn't realize. Congratulations to you, _commander_."

Pulitzer's mouth set in a firm line, "Glad to see all of the cargo made it here safely."

He gave Jack a steely look, challenging him to admit to any mishap that may have befallen the precious shipment.

"Yessir," Jack gave him an unwavering smile.

Nonplussed, Pulitzer proceeded to give his fingernails a thorough once over until the cart was loaded, and he took off toward the naval compound without another word.

· · · · ·

The man cringed and watched in dread as the axe's blade arced high in the air and cut clean through the ropes in one fell swoop, bringing down the sails. His crew stood by, rendered helpless by the men who surrounded them, holding them in place with cutlasses and pistols to their throats.

"Well, well, well," the lean young man before him smirked with mocking gray eyes, "Looks like you have some crates here that are marked as belonging to a different company. Now _how_ did you manage to get a hold of these, hm?"

"I—I—uh, that is to say I—"

The stuttering fool was silenced with an imperial wave of the hand, "Oh now really, do you think I care?"

This time he stayed quiet, letting the question linger in the air before the gray eyed man continued, "Now then, seeing as I'm such a kind and _generous_ sort of fellow," one of his crew coughed and he shot them a scathing look, "I feel that it really would be in your best interest if I take these off of your hands. You really wouldn't want to be caught with stolen goods, would you?"

"N—n—no," the man managed to get out, eyeing the cutlass that hovered threateningly close.

"Wonderful. And I think," the smirk returned in full glory, "That since you are so clearly indebted to me for this favor that I will take a few of your own crates as well, just so the score is settled. Seems fair, doesn't it?"

The shaking man nodded mutely, nervous eyes still on the twitching blade.

"All right boys, you heard the agreement! Let's relieve our friend of his dues."

A few of his crew snarled at their prisoners before dropping their cutlasses, daring them to try something as they moved away to remove the cartons. When all but two boxes of the shipment were transferred to his own ship the smirking man turned back to the unfortunate captain of the looted craft.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," he tipped his hat giving the man a once over, then added as an afterthought, "Oh…and you've pissed yourself."

The captain looked down and turned scarlet, trying to think of how many ways he could possibly be shamed in just one day. He watched miserably as the loaded ship sailed away, the skull of its black flag grinning at him mockingly as the wings on either side of it fluttered in the wind.

Once back aboard his own ship the pirate sat down amidst his crew as they pried open the crates on the red cedar deck.

"So," he stood to walk amongst the open boxes, "What have we got?"

One of his boys spoke up immediately, "I got shoes, Cap'n. From Italy, and real leather too. Looks like about," his brow furrowed in concentration, ten pairs wide by ten pairs in length and two pairs deep meant…he gave a low whistle, "I got two hundred pairs. What's that, like eight hundred pounds?"

Gray eyes gleamed with excitement, "At least! What about everyone else? What have you all found?"

The air rang with cries of "Fifty letter openers from Italy and fifty crucifixes, that's six thousand pounds! Two hundred rosaries from Cadiz, eight thousand pounds! One hundred bracelets from Seville, four thousand pounds!"

When all of the stolen goods were added they totaled no less than twenty five thousand pounds, and the pirate captain could not have been more pleased with their latest haul. A Cheshire grin lit up his face and every time he thought of those crates he could not help but look very much like the cat that got the cream.

"So," his second in command approached him when all of the cartons had been safely stowed in the hold, "Where are we planning on selling all of this?"

"Why Jinx," he smirked up at his friend, "The 'wickedest town on earth' of course, where else?"

Jinx laughed and shook his head, "All right, sounds good to me. Though we just left Nassau, so it's gonna take us a week or so to get there. Havana's a lot closer…"

"Yeah, and Havana's got some of the heaviest duties on goods in the whole damn Caribbean, Jinx. 'Sides, I'm startin' to miss the good 'ole Jamaican scum."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Jinx put his hands up in submission, "Whatever you say. You _are_ the captain, Spot."

He grinned in affirmation, "I sure as hell am."

· · · · ·

"Pleasant fellow," Racetrack muttered under his breath, glaring at Pulitzer's retreating back.

"All righty, Cap'n," Mush addressed Jack, wiping the trickle of sweat from his brow, "Where to now?"

Jack looked to the sky, shielding his hand and taking note of the sun's position over the distant horizon.

"Well, I say we get whatever we need for the night off the ship and head over to old man Taylor's tavern. I'll bet he'll give us another discount for the night if we help clean up again."

"Yeah, and we're guaranteed to get enough to drink there!" Blink laughed, with a pointed look in Racetrack's direction.

After gathering a few small personal items from the ship the crew trooped off eastward toward The Duke's Flask Tavern. They passed through the market, and more than one mouth began to salivate at the sounds of "Whole chicken, only two pennies! Bread, one penny! Special on wine, just for today, only two pennies per pint!"

"Two pennies?" Racetrack scoffed, "That's gotta be the most watered down shit I ever heard of."

"Ooh, but that guy right there is selling ladies stockings for only two shillings! That's not a half bad price," a small dark boy observed thoughtfully.

"Oh shove it, Boots," one of the boys laughed, giving him a push, "Why would you even know that?"

"Now, now, Specs," Blink cut in, "Let's not judge Boots for his knowledge of ladies clothing."

"If that's not judgment worthy then I don't know what is," Race laughed as Boots folded his arms in a huff and stalked off to walk with Jack.

After a momentary pause during which Boots was convinced _not_ to take up a very painted woman on her offer of "four shillings for an hour" just to prove his manliness, "Trust me," Race had told him, "I shudder to think of what you'd get for a price that cheap," the boys made off toward the tavern in earnest, arriving there shortly before nightfall.

"Captain Kelly!" The barkeeper exclaimed delightedly when the men barged through the door, "What are you doing back so soon in 'the wickedest town on earth'?"

"Couldn't stay away from Port Royal for too long," Jack laughed, "We woulda missed your handsome ruddy face too much." He gave the barkeep an affectionate slap on the cheek.

"More like you woulda missed the liquor," a dark haired girl remarked playfully, coming around the corner of the bar with a full tray of beer held aloft.

"Ah Blair," Jack winked, "We woulda missed you too."

Her eyes rolled heavenward and she sashayed past him with her tray, delivering the pints it held to a table of men nearby before working her way around to the other tables, taking drink orders. The crew situated themselves around the tavern while Jack and Race took seats at the bar.

"So Taylor," he spoke to the barkeep, "What're the chances of us getting some cheap rooms for the night?"

"Jesus, it's straight to business with you tonight, is it Jack?"

"Sorry," the younger man apologized with a smile, "But you know me, I don't want my poor boys left out in the cold."

"Oh yeah, sure, because these Jamaican nights get so chilly," Taylor joked sarcastically, "All right, I'll give you the same deal as last time. You know I normally charge a shilling per night, but for you and your boys I'll charge half, granted you help out in the kitchen again."

"It's a deal," Jack held out his hand to shake and Taylor took it warmly.

"Blair!" Taylor called out to his daughter, "Looks like I got you some help with the dishes tonight!"

"Well thank _god_," she replied in feigned anger, hands fisted on her slim hips, "Because I don't know if I've ever met a messier lot than this in my whole life!"

"Aw, now that's not fair," Jack said in mock hurt, "That cuts me deep, Blair, really."

"Uh huh, I'm sure, please accept my sincerest apologies," she laughed as she returned to the bar beside him, setting down her empty tray for her father to replenish with drinks.

"Here ya go, Race," she handed the black haired boy a brimming pint with a sly wink of a green eye, "Drink up, but don't get so drunk you can't help me with those dishes, or so help me you'll wake up wishing you were never born."

"Some mouth on that daughter of yours," Race commented to Taylor.

The old man just placed a hand to his chest, his eyes going skyward, "Lord help me," he sighed dramatically, "I've tried so hard with her."

A wet rag flew from Blair's general direction and hit Taylor square on his balding head. Laughing heartily, Race and Jack clinked their glasses and drank greedily, toasting the wind, the seas, the lodging and drink provided by Taylor, and the lifestyle that had not failed them yet.


	2. Will There Be Pirates?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Newsies!

Chapter Two: Will There Be Pirates?

Jack yawned and stretched as he sat up in the bed, the mattress squeaking below him. Squinting from the harsh sunlight that poured into the room he glanced about him, noting that he was the first of his men to wake up.

_SMACK!_

"Shit!" Racetrack awoke with the curse spilling from his lips, rubbing the back of his head and looking for whatever offending object had hit him while he slept unawares.

The leather boot stared up at him innocently from its place on the ground, and his eyes narrowed on it before his glare slid up to Jack's grinning face, the captain nonchalantly lacing up the shoe he still had possession of.

"You know," Race muttered, "There are better ways to wake people up…"

"And yet none of them seem as enjoyable to me," Jack laughed, taking back his second boot and putting it on.

Racetrack rolled his eyes and helped Jack wake up the remaining boys, this time with much less shoe throwing but far more yelling.

When everyone had gotten dressed and gathered what little they had taken with them to the tavern the band of boys trooped downstairs, thanked Taylor, who was busy cleaning up the remaining mess from the night before, and departed for their ship in the harbor.

"All right guys," Jack began, facing his crew as they stood on the main deck, "As some of you may remember, when we stopped in Old Providence on the way here from Puerto Bello I met with one of the owners of pretty much the only place to get clothing on the whole godforsaken island. Now, they're in desperate need of more merchandise, and lucky for us they want it from Port Royal since you can get almost anything here for the base price. So, I need Snitch and Dutchy," the two boys looked up at the mention of their names, "To go tell the stock guys at the London Clothing Company that Captain Jack Kelly and his crew are ready for the shipment."

"No problem Jack," Dutchy spoke up, combing a hand through his blond hair, "When should we tell them to bring the crates down?"

"Sometime around midday would be good, then we can load 'em on and get out before dark."

Dutchy and Snitch nodded and went off to the London Clothing Company while Jack and the crew took advantage of the downtime by making minor repairs to the ship's sails, cleaning the decks, and making sure the hold was organized enough to accommodate the incoming boxes.

Jack was in the middle of retying a knot in one of the ropes when a small voice invaded his thoughts.

"Excuse me? Hello up there!"

Giving the rope one final tug Jack looked down over the side of the ship to where a young man stood with a small boy, waving up to the captain from the dock.

"What can I do for ya?" Jack called down to them, annoyed at being interrupted and not particularly interested.

"I um, well, say, would you mind finding the captain of this ship for me? I'd like to speak to him."

"You're lookin' at him."

"Oh! I'm so sorry Captain! The sun's kind of in my eyes, and it's hard to see, and well," the man floundered for words, "Anyway, I was wondering if you might be—uh—hiring, right now."

"Hiring?" Jack repeated the word back slowly.

"That is to say, hiring for, well, _looking_ for new crew members."

"I think I got all I need, thanks."

_Jesus_, Jack thought to himself, turning back to the rope, _Who the hell is this kid?_

"How many men do you have?"

Jack twitched in irritation, "Seventeen, including me," he answered, "Which is more than enough for this ship."

"Only if you don't want to operate the guns," the boy countered.

The vein in Jack's forehead began to throb, _You've got to be kidding me…_

"Don't need to operate all of the guns," Jack huffed as he pulled harder to tighten the knot.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, pirates have been getting bolder and growing in numbers all over these waters. If I were you I'd be trying to get as much manpower on board my ship as possible."

"Well you're not me."

"Yes, but—"

Jack threw down the rope in frustration and stomped down the plank to meet the boy on the dock.

"Look," he pointed a finger in the boy's face, "I don't know who the hell you are, or what you want, but you're really starting to get on my last nerve, so why don't you just run along and find someone else to annoy? I'm waiting for a shipment and then I'm sailing out of here in a couple of hours, I really don't have the time to deal with you right now."

Just as he turned on his heel to go back to his previous task, the boy called imploringly one last time.

"Wait!"

Jack slowly rotated back to him, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"My name is David Jacobs," the boy held out his hand to Jack, who eyed it suspiciously but shook it nonetheless.

"This is my little brother Les," David gestured to the quiet boy beside him, "Our father was hurt during a fight with some pirates while he was serving in the Royal Navy, and he lost his job because of it. We just need to find some work to help out our family while he gets better, but the only thing either of us knows anything about is ships. And we _know_ ships."

"David," Jack said seriously, "My heart breaks for you, really, but I don't need any more guys right now. I'm sure that there are tons of captains on these docks who're looking for—"

"But none of 'em are the great Jack Kelly!" Les spoke up, breaking his silence.

"Les!" David admonished, embarrassed by his little brother's outburst.

"What was that kid?" Jack asked, squatting down to meet the boy eye to eye.

"I said none of _those_ captains are the great Jack Kelly."

"How old are ya, Les?"

"Ten!" Les grinned up at him roguishly as Jack straightened to address David.

"Smart kid," he commented, the beginnings of a smile gracing his face, "It looks like my reputation precedes me."

David held back an eye roll as Jack grinned, vainly picking at the lint on his shirt.

"You're one of the only captains our father had anything decent to say about," David explained, "He said you're just about the only honest captain in shipping left in the Caribbean."

"Well," Jack said, turning more serious, "Sadly that's not terribly surprising. Look David, out of the goodness of my heart, I'll reconsider what I said before. I don't really need another guy, but if you know how to operate the guns, the sails, the ropes, and you can clean decks, then you'd be useful to me to have around. And I like useful. But your brother—"

"Les is one of the best sail repairmen I've ever seen," David cut in before Jack could finish, "Really, he is, his fingers are so small that he can—"

"All right, all right," Jack held up his hands in defeat, trying to tell himself that what

convinced him was David's explanation of Les' skills, and not the deeply crestfallen look on the young boy's face when he realized Jack was about to refuse him a place onboard.

"So David, we're about to be going on a short trip to Old Providence to deliver a shipment of clothes. It's only four hundred and fifty miles, so we're looking at about three days there, three days back. Why don't you and Les come along, and we'll call it a sort of…test run. If everything goes well you guys can stick around until you don't need the work anymore. I can't promise any sort of high pay, just a cut of whatever we get from the shipments we deliver."

"That sounds perfect, oh thank you so much," David practically gushed, and Jack squirmed in discomfort.

"Les," David instructed his brother, "Run home and tell Papa that we're going to be working with Captain Jack Kelly for the next week. Then come right back with our bags so we can help get the cargo onboard, okay?"

"Okay!" Les ran off, beaming from ear to ear.

"So why not just join the navy or something, if you need the money that badly?" Jack inquired, watching Les' retreating back.

David's eyes hardened, "They fired my father when all he had was a broken arm. 'Said that a captain who couldn't properly grip the wheel or fight with a sword one-handed wasn't much use to them."

"Oh," Jack replied, "Lovely bunch, the Royal Navy."

David smiled wryly, "So," he asked, "What can I help with while we wait for the shipment?"

· · · · ·

Commander Pulitzer sat fuming at his desk. _Why was it_, he seethed, _Why was it that every single time he tried to get his hands on some extra cash some goddamn pirate managed to get to the shipment before it got to him_.

He threw the map he was trying to read to the ground in frustration. If he got _one_ more report about some pirate ship with a black flag of a smirking skull and wings…

"Sir?" A navy officer poked his head meekly into Pulitzer's office, pointedly ignoring the map that lay in disarray on the floor.

"_What?_" The commander ground out.

"The um," the officer coughed nervously, "The Commodore would like to speak to you."

"Oh goody," Pulitzer spit out caustically when the officer had closed the office door.

Nonetheless he stood and straightened his clothes, brushing them off and attempting to look presentable. No way was he going to get the job if the old geezer didn't recommend him before he finally dropped dead…

He pushed open the door and headed down the hallway toward the grand office where the commodore worked.

Painting a plastic smile on his face he rapped neatly on the door, entering after the commodore warmly invited him in.

To his credit, the cheery expression on his face didn't even twitch when the commodore called him Joseph instead of Commander Pulitzer. But he couldn't stop the input of the sarcastic little voice in his head, which had taken one look at the jovial and innocent commodore seated in his luxurious chair and whispered venomously, "_Showtime_."

· · · · ·

It was almost noon when Les returned, carrying two small burlap sacks along with him.

Jack quickly took him aboard and introduced him to the crew, a process he had already gone through for David almost two hours earlier.

Just as he began explaining the details of their duties to Les and David, Dutchy and Snitch returned, a cart fully loaded with crates in tow.

"This everything?" Jack asked the London Clothing Company employee driving the cart.

"Yessir, Captain," the man replied, "Should be all thirty cartons right here."

Jack nodded in approval and signaled to his crew to start loading up the ship. David rolled up his sleeves and helped lift the heavy crates while Les hung back, not yet strong enough to be of any real help.

Shortly after, with the ship fully stocked with the merchandise, Jack ordered his men to set sail, and they hoisted the anchor and began the short trek to Old Providence.

As they sailed away David and Les stood at the back of the ship, watching the Jamaican shores fade away into the horizon.

"Think we'll meet any pirates?" Les questioned Jack excitedly when he came to stand with them.

"Les!" David groaned, "That's a horrible thing to hope for!"

"Who says I'm hoping for it?" Les bit back, sticking out his tongue.

"But still," he whispered to Jack conspiratorially, leaning away from David, "Think we'll meet any pirates?"

Acorn: Thanks for the review! I think I'm starting to figure out how to do some of the spacing, haha.


	3. Pulitzer's Promotion

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Newsies!

Chapter Three: Pulitzer's Promotion

In the four hundred and fifty miles from Port Royal to Old Providence, Captain Jack Kelly learned several things.

The first was that Les was far better at tying knots than most of his crew members, something that annoyed them but sent Jack into private fits of laughter when the young boy redid poorly done knots when he thought no one was looking.

The second was that despite it being Mush's week to cook, everyone needed to keep in mind there was a definite reason he had gotten his name and perhaps it was a good idea if someone would just offer to lend him their services in the galley.

The third and final lesson of any significance was that David needed an off switch. Or a mute button. _Or maybe a muzzle…_

Jack was jerked out of his daydreaming by David's fingers snapping in front of his face.

"Have you heard a single thing I said?" The blue-eyed boy asked in consternation.

"Huh what? Oh, no, see there was this cloud, and the longer you talked the more interesting it started to look and—"

"Hey Jack!"

Jack peered around the mizzenmast he was leaning against to where Les called up to him from the deck.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Can I go up to the crow's nest?"

"Sure kid, knock yourself out," Jack waved him away, and David turned to him in horror.

"You can't let him climb that thing! It's like…it's like…Well, I don't know exactly how tall it is, but it's really high!"

"Oh he'll be fine," Jack said dismissively.

"It's a BARREL lashed to a POLE," David pointed accusingly to the contraption on top of the main mast that his little brother was now climbing eagerly toward.

"It's a low budget crow's nest," Jack's lips quirked into a smile, "'Sides, if it can hold Blink it can certainly hold Les."

There was a pause before David spoke again, "You let a one-eyed man be your lookout?"

"Yeah, so?" Jack asked defensively.

"HE HAS NO DEPTH PERCEPTION!" David yelled, throwing his hands in the air, "I swear," he ranted, "If my father had any idea of all the crazy shit you do on this ship he never would have—"

"Look," Jack cut in, "Blink only goes up there when everyone else is already doing something that can't be interrupted, which is rare, so take a breath and calm down. I'm not stupid, you know."

"Then why did you…" David huffed in annoyance, "Why did you—"

"Because your reaction was the funniest damn thing I've seen all day," Jack gave him a little slap on the cheek before addressing Race as he walked by, "What's goin' on down there?"

"Everything's been unloaded and sent off, we're just waiting for Itey and Bumlets to come back with the payment and the crates of stuff that they wanted shipped back to the London Clothing Company. What's the plan when they get back?"

Jack stretched his arms over his head and yawned, "Well, I for one would like to get back to Port Royal as soon as possible. With this last job we have enough money to dock for a little while, and I think everyone could use a little 'shore leave' for a few days."

"Sounds good to me," Racetrack grinned, "Hey David," he said to the newcomer, "You know, you're really doing good here."

But the compliment fell on deaf ears as the young man was watching with intent dismay as Les clambered into the precariously secured barrel pausing just long enough to give his brother a mischievous smile before he dutifully surveyed the horizon.

· · · · ·

It wasn't every day that George MacDowell found a dead body outside of his pub in Port Royal, Jamaica.

Yet it had to be handed to him, he had handled it with surprisingly good candor until the very moment he had realized the man was dead.

"'Scuse me," he had said, approaching the body that lay still on the dirty ground, "'Scuse me sir, if ya don't mind, looks mighty bad for business to have ya lyin' around passed out right by my front door."

When the man gave no response George had cautiously tiptoed closer, wrinkling his nose in disgust when the sole of his shoe came in contact with something wet and slick. Vomit, he had supposed.

"'Scuse me," he tried again a bit louder, leaning down to give the man a good tap on the shoulder when the acrid scent of iron hit his nose full force.

His eyes traveled to his foot. It occurred to him vaguely that it was strange that there should be vomit around the man's midsection, and not his mouth.

Using the toe of his shoe he gave the man a good shove and rolled him over onto his back.

"Oh no," he had whispered, his hand covering his mouth in revulsion at the blood seeping out of the man's chest, "_Oh no_," he had whispered again, his eyes going to the man's face, "Not you, _not you_, oh no, oh no, no, no—MURDER!" He had screamed, running up and down the street, "MURDER! MURDER! MURDER!"

· · · · ·

The pirate captain waved a bottle of rum high in the air before swigging down a huge gulp.

"So," a young man sat next to him, his green eyes laughing, "Straight to Port Royal, was it?"

"Oh come on, Jinx," Spot slurred out, "Santiago was on the way, it was completely fair game."

Jinx rolled his eyes to the ceiling, "Whatever, as long as we get there soon. Makes me damn uncomfortable to have all this cargo with no money to show for it, 'specially because most of it's marked…"

"You worry too much," Spot said, passing over the bottle, "Here, rum solves everything."

"Oh, right, how could I forget?" Jinx laughed and brought the bottle to his lips.

· · · · ·

The weather was fine and the wind had blown in their favor, so when Jack and his crew docked at the harbor in Port Royal three days after leaving Old Providence the captain was in high spirits, and ready for a short break from the seas.

The funny thing about fate, however, is that it tends to see good moods as a challenge, and it wasn't long before Jack's cheerfulness had met its match.

"JACK!" Boots practically screamed as he tore down the wooden dock toward the ship, "JACK! I need to talk to you, NOW!"

"What? What's the matter?" Jack emerged from his quarters, rubbing a hand over his face to wipe away the sleep from his eyes.

The frantic boy doubled over, painfully sucking back air to try and catch his breath.

"You—won't—believe—what—I—found—out!"

"Breath, Boots," Jack commanded, "What happened?"

"I was taking the crates to the London Clothing Company with Dutchy," Boots began, "And when we were coming back through the market we were talking and not paying attention and Dutchy accidentally ran into this real officer looking type. And we both looked up and realized that it was Pulitzer."

"Oh great," Jack groaned, "Just tell me Dutchy got himself arrested."

"What? No, he's—"

"JACK!" Boots and Jack looked to where Dutchy was racing down toward the ship, bellowing at the top of his lungs, "JACK YOU HAVE TO HEAR THIS!"

"I'm TRYING to!" Jack yelled back, jerking a thumb toward Boots.

Seeing his friend already onboard, Dutchy slowed his crazed pace to a walk, clutching his side in discomfort as he struggled to regain his breath.

"Okay, so clearly neither of you are in jail, so what's going on?"

"So we notice that it's Pulitzer, right? So Dutchy says, real polite, 'Oh, 'scuse me, Commander Pulitzer,' and he moves to the side for him. But Pulitzer just takes one look at him and says, 'That's _Commodore_ Pulitzer,' and then he just walks off. Just like that. But you shoulda seen the smug look on his face, I swear I just wanted to—"

"Commodore Pulitzer?" Jack asked skeptically, "Are you sure? I mean, are you _sure_ he didn't say 'commander' or something?"

"Positive, Jack," Dutchy confirmed, approaching the pair, "He said 'commodore' plain as day."

"Well how the hell did _that_ happen?" Jack demanded to no one in particular.

He peered around at the faces of his crew as they began to appear out of the woodworks, all eager to hear what all the fuss was about.

"We asked around after we found out," Dutchy explained, addressing everyone, "And apparently Commodore Edwards was found dead a few nights ago outside of MacDowell's Pub. We were told that he had gotten into a fight with a couple of guys that night, and they figure that they just jumped him when he left. His wallet and everything was gone, and they haven't found the guys yet. Everyone was too drunk to really remember what they look like."

"Well _shit_," Jack cursed, "I mean _shit_."

The last thing he needed was one of his least favorite people alive being in charge of the place he considered his home base of operations.

"But, that ain't _so_ bad, right Jack?" Mush asked, "I mean, it's not like it really affects us all that much, right?"

"Yeah," Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck, "We should be fine. We don't do anything illegal, we're well liked around here, and I can't imagine what he'd want to do to shipping anyway."

"So what's the plan then, fearless leader?" Blink asked with a smile.

Jack grinned back at him, "Same as before. As long as Pulitzer doesn't bother us, we don't bother him. We're staying here for a few days, so take a vacation boys. David's already gone off to be with his family on the other side of town, but I told him that so long as he still needs work he's welcome to stay on with us. You all know where your pay is kept, so go get your take and don't do anything too stupid."

"Yes, mom," Race said with a salute before ducking as Jack threw his hat at him.

The rest of the boys nodded at their instructions and wandered off to do with their time as they pleased.

"Hey Jack!"

"David," Jack nodded at the young man as he approached him on the deck, "I thought you left for home a few hours ago."

"I did," David laughed, "But then I got there, and my dad sent me back to invite you to dinner with my family tonight. My parents want to meet 'the great Captain Jack Kelly.'"

"Well don't I feel special."

David rolled his eyes, "Yeah, Les won't shut up about you."

"Well a free meal sounds good to me," Jack said, slipping on his hat, "Let's go!"

"Oh, by the way," David started as they began the walk towards his house, "Did you hear about _Commodore_ Pulitzer?"

"Yes, thank you, and I'd like to stop hearing about it if at all possible."

A little less than thirty minutes later Jack and David walked through the front doors into the latter's home, their presence announced by a loud yell from Les, "It's Jack!"

"And David!" David called back sarcastically, giving his brother a small shove when he passed him in the hallway on the way to the dining room.

"Well that was quick," a short woman commented as she emerged out of the kitchen, her graying hair pulled back from her face.

"Wasn't too hard to convince Jack to come when I told him he'd be fed," David joked, then to Jack he said, "This is my mother. Mom, this is Captain Jack Kelly."

"Mrs. Jacobs," Jack nodded at her in greeting as he took of his hat.

"And this," David continued as a man rounded the corner to join the rest of them, "Is my father."

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain Kelly," David's father shook Jack's hand warmly, "I've heard wonderful things about you. Thanks so much for helping out my boys."

"They're great sailors sir," Jack replied, feeling more than uncomfortable at the palpable familial love in the air.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Jack's head perked up at the new voice, and his eyes came to land on the slender young woman leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over her chest in mock offense. His mouth went dry and he swallowed hard.

"Oh, sorry," David said, "Jack, this is my sister, Sarah."

"Nice to meet you, Captain Kelly," Sarah said, wiping her hands on her apron before returning to the kitchen.

"Please, call me Jack!" He called to her retreating back. He wasn't sure if she heard him, but he could have sworn he saw a shy smile light up her face before she disappeared into the kitchen entirely.

The men sat down at the table and discussed Jack's shipping business until the two women brought out the food.

When the meal was over Jack shook hands once more with David's father, said a polite goodbye to David's mother and to Sarah, and tousled Les' hair before David walked with him out the door.

"So Jack," David stopped him before he continued back to the ship for the night, "I know you didn't want to hear anymore about Pulitzer, but before you came over my father told me that he plans on giving some sort of speech tomorrow. Something about his goals as the new commodore. I think it would be worth it if a couple of us went, just to see what he's up to."

"I think that's a great idea, good thinking. What time is it at?"

"Noonish, outside the naval office."

"All right then," Jack nodded in thought, "Meet me at the ship around eleven, and I'll round up a couple of the guys."

"Okay, see you tomorrow," David waved goodbye before going back inside.

_Huh_, Jack thought on his walk back to the docks, _Commodore Pulitzer. Shit._

But whatever Jack had prepared himself for, whatever nonsense he had anticipated from Pulitzer, the speech the new commodore gave the next day blew his expectations clear out of the water.

It was never a comforting thing to have one's worst fears confirmed. Captain Jack Kelly soon learned that far more terrible was to realize one's worst fears seemed like pipe dreams when compared to reality.

Acorn: Thanks again!


	4. The Commodore's Decree

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Newsies!

Author's Note: Yay chapter four!

Chapter Four: The Commodore's Decree

"And so," the newly promoted commodore stood atop his platform, preening like a peacock, "I feel it is my duty as Commodore to fight against this new pirate threat with all of my power, and I shall never rest until Port Royal is freed from the clutches of these vile and corrupt criminals!"

There was a spattering of polite claps interspersed throughout the crowd, and Racetrack rolled his eyes, turning to Jack, "Ain't no such thing as a _new_ pirate threat."

"Tell me about it," David commented as Jack stayed silent, listening intently to Pulitzer's every word.

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when Pulitzer was done citing every reason that pirates were blasphemous heathens, that he said something of any interest to Jack and his men.

"Therefore," Pulitzer continued in his unbearable monotone, "And let it be noted that I do indeed say this with a heavy heart and with much regret that there is simply no other option, it has been decided that in order to fund this new war on piracy we must raise the import and export taxes on all shipping."

Jack and his boys started forward in alarm, the captain calling out a strangled, "What?!"

The crowd stirred uncomfortably but Pulitzer forged ahead, nonplussed, "It is, after all, the merchants who we are protecting the most, and so it follows accordingly that the brunt of the financial burden will be placed on their shoulders," he shook his head as if in deep emotional turmoil.

"We used to be provided with a small stipend from England to help pay for arms and men to fight against the pirates," he explained sadly, "But those back in Europe have decided that the threat posed by such immoral scum is of little or no consequence, and the money has ceased to come. Hence it has fallen upon us to fend for ourselves, to fight for the land we've made our home, and as God as my witness I will rid the Caribbean of pirates once and for all!"

"Somewhere Conlon is rolling on the ground laughing," Racetrack muttered darkly.

Jack could swear he heard a man standing not too far away snort in laughter at Race's comment. _He looks awfully familiar_, Jack thought to himself, but the man moved away before he could catch a clear glimpse of his face.

"This is bullshit," Blink whispered furiously over the now more raucous applauding from the gathering below Pulitzer's platform, "Total and utter bullshit."

"What are we gonna do, Jack?" Mush asked as the captain watched Pulitzer murderously, the commodore exiting his stage to shake hands with the officials in the crowd, "I mean, we got some money saved up, yeah, but Port Royal was basically the last place left without sky high taxes on everything! And who knows how pricey he's gonna push things? What are we gonna do?" He repeated balefully.

"I don't know," Jack swatted him away in irritation, striding off towards the ship, "Let me think."

"Yeah!" Les said in his defense, pushing the questioning crew back from their captain, "Give him some room, give him some room, let him think!"

And so Jack thought. He thought on the walk all the way back to the ship, and he continued to think as he strode into his quarters and slammed the door behind him.

"He'll come up with something," Les affirmed with a sure nod, "Just you wait."

The crew sat glumly around the ship, idly repairing torn sails and retying knots, when finally Jack emerged back onto the deck with a grim and determined look on his face.

"Okay, I have an idea."

· · · · ·

The previous evening had been fair and calm. The sky was dark and cloudless, the stars were shining brightly, and a very inebriated crew of pirates sang loud and rowdy songs at the top of their lungs, sending one incredibly amused barmaid into peals of laughter and one not so tickled tavern owner into eye rolling mental rants about the frivolities of drunken boys.

They arrived from Santiago later than Spot had expected, but despite the delay the captain, in true Conlon fashion, informed his crew that they were to immediately depart on foot for The Duke's Flask Tavern, where they were ordered to have much drink and merriment.

His obedient crew saluted and made off for the tavern at once, bursting in through the door with loud cheers and calls for ale.

Taylor, who had had been eyeing his one already comatose customer and hoping for a somewhat early night, threw up his hands, "Ah, hell. Blair!" He called behind him, "Blair, your idiot brother is here, and he's brought his friends again!"

Her shriek could be heard all the way from where she stood washing dishes in the back.

"Eric!" Blair cried out, racing out to the barroom of the tavern and launching herself into the open arms of the dark haired boy as he stood beside his captain.

"Where have you been?!" She smacked his arm playfully as the crew dispersed themselves amongst the empty tables.

Taylor shook hands fondly with Spot and his son before running off to get drinks for the crew.

"Well, the _Captain_ here kept wanting to take detours," Eric said, nodding his head toward Spot.

"Oh sure, Jinx," Spot drawled out, "Blame it all on me."

"I'm sure you had something to do with it," Blair grinned at him, but when he smiled back with a wink she turned to her brother, flustered and hoping her cheeks weren't quite as pink as they felt.

"So tell me about all your adventures," Blair commanded, looping her arm through Jinx's as she walked with him and Spot to the bar counter, slipping behind it to pour the two drinks.

"Well first there was Havana," Jinx began, managing to only tell the brief opening to the story before Spot cut in and took over, unable to sit there in silence.

Besides, he was a much better storyteller, if he did say so himself. Blair nodded along, refilling their cups when they were empty and squeaking out the nerve to make somewhat prolonged eye contact with the pirate captain every few moments.

Jinx rolled his eyes toward the ceiling at his sister's inability to flirt with the captain, try as she might to work up the courage. It wasn't as if he minded; if chatting up Spot was something she was any good at then his brotherly duty to beat his friend to the ground would come into play, and that would just lead to all sorts of trouble.

"So Captain Conlon," Taylor stepped up to the trio just as Spot finished one of his stories, "Have you heard about our new commodore?"

"Yeah, Pulitzer, is it?"

"The one and only," Blair said distastefully, "He's a real gem of a person, I can tell you that much."

"Anyway," Taylor dismissed his daughter's interjection, "He's going to be speaking tomorrow, about what he's going to do now that he's commodore, and I'd suggest that you send one of your boys there. Believe me when I say this man has no small hatred for pirates, and I'd be surprised if he didn't at least mention what he plans to do to your lot."

Spot nodded seriously, "Thanks for that, Taylor. I'll make sure to have a guy or two there."

The captain returned to regaling Blair with wildly embellished stories of pirating in the Caribbean, and it wasn't until hours later that every last boy save Spot and Jinx had finally dragged himself off to a bed upstairs.

"All right," Jinx stretched with a yawn, "I'm falling asleep where I sit, I gotta head upstairs."

Blair looked at him with drowsy eyes from where she had been nodding off behind the bar, unsuccessfully trying to pay attention to a story that the captain himself was tiredly losing track of.

"Mm, sounds good to me," she murmured sleepily, sliding off the stool she was perched on and going around to blow out the still glowing lanterns around the room.

"G'night Blair!" Jinx called to her as he trudged up the stairwell.

"Night!" She yelled back softly over her shoulder, before turning back to her present task.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a throat cleared not far behind her. Whirling around in fright she breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw it was only Spot.

"Jesus, you scared me!"

"Sorry," he grinned at her, biting back his laughter with little success.

At the top of the steps Jinx paused long enough to realize that he was alone, and he peered into the darkness at the bottom of the stairwell with suspicion.

Blair fidgeted under his gaze, "Did you need something?" She asked him uncertainly.

"I just wanted to—here," Spot said, holding out a small box he had produced from within the satchel he brought with him from the ship.

"What is it?" Blair asked, turning over the box in her hands, looking for the lid.

"Well open it!" Spot laughed.

"I'm trying!" She laughed back, flabbergasted.

Finally she located the opening and tugged it open, gasping softly at what lay inside. A diminutive wooden music box sat nestled in paper, the flower imprinted into the top of the wood gleaming up at her out of the darkness.

"Like it?" Spot inquired quietly, peeking down into the box himself.

"It's…_beautiful_," Blair said softly when she found her voice, "What's this for?"

"Oh, Jinx told me your birthday was coming up, and we have an exceptionally large haul from over the last couple of weeks, more than we could possibly spend anytime soon, and I just wanted to say…I don't know, thanks? You and your father take very good care of me and my boys." Spot rambled.

"I don't—I mean, this is—I mean…Thank you," Blair managed, finally.

"Really," Spot assured her, "It wasn't anything, it was just—"

"No really," she cut in, and throwing caution to the wind she stepped into Spot and twined her arms around his neck, hugging him, "Thank you."

Blair held back a shiver as his arms slid around her waist, hugging her back, "Don't mention it," he mumbled into her hair.

When they finally broke apart Blair surveyed the mess surrounding them and turned to him sheepishly, "I should probably get back to picking things up."

"Do you need any help?"

"Oh no, no," she said hastily, "You go to sleep, you must be exhausted."

"Yeah," he laughed, "I was kinda hoping you'd say that. G'night, Blair," he tugged on a lock of her hair affectionately.

"'Night, Spot," she said smiling, then raised the box towards him, "And thanks again."

"You're welcome."

He flashed her one last smile before climbing the stairwell to the bunkroom on the second story, where he ran smack into Jinx at the top of the steps.

"What?" Spot asked him.

"Whaddya mean, _what_?" Jinx asked back.

"'Night, Jinx," Spot smirked at him mischievously, walking down the rows of beds to find himself one not already occupied by a snoring pirate.

Jinx glared at him warily but said no more before he flopped down onto his own bunk and fell into a deep alcohol induced sleep.

Downstairs, Blair had returned to clearing up the bar once all the lanterns were extinguished, beaming and finding suddenly that she was very wide awake indeed.

Author's Note: Hey out there, if anyone has any feedback at all it would be very much appreciated! Thanks!!


	5. The Waiting Game

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Newsies!

Chapter Five: The Waiting Game

Racetrack stared dumbly at Jack, his mouth agape, "Have you _lost_ your _mind_?!"

"What?!" Jack asked defensively, "It's a great idea!"

"Yeah, because one lousy merchant ship refusing to sell is really going to break Pulitzer's heart," David responded sarcastically.

"No, no, no," Jack said in irritation, "The whole point is that we get _everybody_ to do it."

"Like a strike?" Blink piped up.

"Yeah, like a strike."

"Again," Racetrack cut in, "Have you _lost your mind_? We can't go on strike, we'd starve in a week!"

"Look," Jack commanded, "You heard what they were saying after Pulitzer's speech. I mean, he's talking about duties of up to fifty percent on some things. The companies we're doing business for are going to have to cut way back on their importing and exporting, or cut way back on what they pay us. We'd starve in a week either way! But if we get all the merchants to join in, then he's _gotta_ listen to us. Port Royal doesn't have enough of it's own resources to survive without the ships bringing stuff in from the other islands."

David crossed his arms and chewed his lip thoughtfully, "Actually…that might work."

"See?" Jack demanded, "I told you, it's a great idea!"

"Yeah!" Les added in enthusiastically.

Jack clapped his hands together, "Okay, we gotta get word out to the all the other captains that are docked in Port Royal right now. Tell 'em that we're going on strike."

"I got Captain Harris," Blink called out, and at Jack's nod he took off down the docks.

"I saw one of Captain Anderson's guys at Pulitzer's speech, Jack, I'll go find them," Racetrack spoke up.

"I'll take Captain Parker," Mush said.

A boy with a peg leg and a wooden crutch stood, "Hey, I got Moore and his guys."

"Thanks, Crutchy," Jack smiled, "All right, Bumlets, Specs, and Skittery you guys can have Captain Lewis, I know he's here, I saw him this morning. Pie Eater and Snoddy, go see if you can find Robinson, I'm betting he'd want in on this. Snipeshooter, why don't you go with them?"

Jack turned to the remaining crewmembers, "As for the rest of you, go see if you can find anybody else along the docks. David, Les, you stay here."

"What's up, Jack?" David asked when all the boys had departed.

"You said your father worked for the navy, right?"

David and Les nodded.

"I want you boys to go talk to your dad about this stipend that Pulitzer was talking about, see what you can find out."

"You got it, Jack."

Les tried to give him an official looking salute and the pair of brothers made their way towards their home, leaving Jack alone on the deck of his ship.

The captain sat down heavily on an upturned wooden barrel and ran his hands through his hair, muttering to himself under his breath.

"This better work."

Hours later, when Jack had nearly driven himself crazy pacing up and down the deck, the members of his crew finally staggered back to the ship, and Jack's mood brightened considerably when he saw that most of them looked to be carrying good news.

"Harris is in," Blink told him immediately.

"Moore too," Crutchy grinned.

"Parker said he'll think about it, but I'm pretty sure he'll join," Mush said.

"Captain Anderson was pissed as hell by the time I got to him," Racetrack laughed, "And he's in for sure."

"Lewis took some convincing, but he's gonna join," Skittery said.

"We couldn't find Robinson," Snoddy scratched the back of his head, "But we ran into one of his guys in the market and apparently he should be coming into harbor in the next couple of days. The guy we talked to made it sound like he'd be probably be willing to join."

"I talked to Captain Thompson," Dutchy spoke up, "He said that there's no way in hell Pulitzer's gonna listen to us, so he's out. But I got the feeling that if we can prove we got Pulitzer's ear, then he'll join in too."

"That's all great news," Jack said, feeling somewhat elated, "Anybody else have any luck?"

The rest of the boys shook their heads glumly, but before Jack could say anything else he spied David and Les making their way back to the ship.

"David!" The captain called out, "What'd your dad have to say?"

"Well," David began as he climbed the ramp to the deck, addressing all of the boys present, "He said that at least when _he_ was in the navy the British government supplied the officers here with a stipend to use towards guns and men for fighting pirates."

"So Pulitzer was telling the truth about that then?" Jack asked, more to himself than as a real question.

David nodded, "Yeah, but my dad didn't know anything about them stopping the payment. He seemed really surprised that they would, too, considering protecting their shipping interests is usually a prime concern over in England. He said that he would talk to some of his old friends that are still in the navy and tell me what he hears."

"Good."

"Also, Jack," David added in, almost as an afterthought, "My dad did mention that he had heard from some of the other navy guys that Admiral Williams is due to be visiting sometime in the next couple of weeks. So that might have something to do with why Pulitzer's so determined to get rid of pirates all of the sudden. He wants to impress the admiral."

"Yeah, that would make sense…" Jack nodded and then fell silent, thinking.

"So, um," Racetrack cleared his throat, "What are we gonna do now?"

"You all are going to wait here," Jack said determinedly, "While I take our demands to the commodore."

"Our _demands_?" David asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, our _demands_. I'm gonna tell him that unless he stops this bullshit with the new taxes we're all going on strike, and good luck getting anything that's not already in supply in Port Royal."

"I'll go with you," Les volunteered enthusiastically.

Jack considered his offer and nodded his head for Les to come too, "Yeah," he said, grabbing the boy by the shoulder, "Maybe the kid'll soften him up."

Less than an hour later a furious looking Jack stomped back onto his ship, a wholly dejected Les in tow.

"Oh, oh, let me guess," Racetrack laughed, "He completely agreed with everything you said and apologized for all the trouble."

"Shove it, Race," Jack bit out darkly.

"So what happened?" David asked.

"Well, we got to the naval barracks, and I told the guard at the front that I needed to see Pulitzer."

"Uh huh."

"And he goes off on this whole 'You can't see Commodore Pulitzer, nobody just gets to_see_ Commodore Pulitzer' and all. So I told him he better go tell Pulitzer that Captain Jack Kelly is here to see him _now_. And that's when I got the pointy end of a bayonet in my face."

"He told us to beat it, before he arrested us for causing trouble," Les added in.

"Wonderful," David drawled cynically, "Now that we so _clearly_ have his attention—"

"Hey!" Jack interrupted angrily, "He's gonna have to _start_ paying attention real soon when he realizes it's getting mighty quiet down on the docks."

"Whatever you say, Jack," David held up his hands in defense, "I just hope he notices before we run out of money for food."

"What is it with all of you and food today?!" Racetrack eyed them all in disgust, "There are better things to spend money on! Cigars! Liquor! Women!"

"Thank you Race," David said sardonically, "I'll try to keep that in mind."

For the second time that day Race looked expectantly to his captain, asking, "So…what now?"

"Now we wait."

· · · · ·

· · · · ·

"He's gotta be joking," Spot laughed, leaning casually against the bar counter at The Duke's Flask Tavern.

"I know, right?" Blue chuckled, the eyes responsible for his name brimming with mirth, "But you shoulda seen the faces on Jack Kelly and his boys, I've never seen him look so angry."

"I'd be mad as hell if I were him," Jinx joined in the conversation from where he was pouring himself a drink behind the bar, "It's not like those guys make all that much money to begin with, and now Pulitzer's slamming 'em with some trumped up new taxes."

"Eric!" Blair tried to slap her brother's hand away from the bottle, "For God's sake it's only two in the afternoon!"

"I'm a slave to my vices," Jinx grinned impishly, holding the bottle out of her reach and filling his cup to the brim.

Blair threw up her hands in defeat, turning to Blue, "I didn't know Jack and his crew were back in Port Royal already! Did you talk to them at all?"

He shook his head, "I was at a speech aimed entirely at getting people to seek and kill pirates, I was making a bit of an effort to avoid being recognized."

"How do you know Kelly?" Spot asked in a suspiciously casual voice.

"Oh him and his guys usually come in here at least a couple of times whenever they're doing business on the island," Blair waved her hand nonchalantly.

Inside, she allowed herself a small smirk at the undertone she heard in the pirate captain's voice.

"Do you think he's gonna really get anywhere with this new 'war on piracy' thing?" She inquired to Blue after a small and awkward silence.

"Nah," Blue shook his head, "I mean, Commodore Edwards never did any real damage _with_ the stipend from England, and the new taxes are only supposed to cover what they're losing now that the payment stopped, so it's not like Pulitzer's getting any _more_ money to fight pirates."

"You made him sound, I don't know, pretty obsessive about getting rid of pirates," Blair chewed her lip.

"Well, we'll just have to see what he does," Spot cut in before Blue could respond, "I for one, am not worried."

He winked roguishly at Blair, who blushed slightly and suddenly found the countertop incredibly interesting.

Jinx rolled his eyes and groaned internally. His father would love this: one son turned pirate and one daughter lusting after an infamous captain.

"What should we do then, Spot?" Jinx asked, "Should we lay low for a while, or just carry on like normal, or what?"

"I'd say we should keep quiet for a few days at least, give us a chance to see what Pulitzer's up to."

Blue and Jinx nodded their approval of his plan as Spot reach out to snag the latter's drink.

"So for now," he said as he raised the glass to his lips, taking a large gulp, "We wait."

Shout Outs:

Heavenly Princess: Aw, thank you so much!!

xLittlexItalyx: Thaaank yoooou!!


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